


How am I Supposed to Breathe with No Air

by alien_lord



Series: Stranger Things Collection [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anger, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Frustration, Gen, Hurt, Pity Party, Sobbing, Unresolved Emotional Baggage, Whump, abusive, billy needs comfort, emotional breakdown, emotional expression, emotional mess, hurting, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 23:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12875778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alien_lord/pseuds/alien_lord
Summary: Billy's upset, and he spends time out in the woods trying to feel better. He doesn't, but the time alone is good for crying.





	How am I Supposed to Breathe with No Air

Billy sat for a long time near the creek, a ways down from his new house. Bits of grass and jeans poked him through his jeans, but he ignored it. He dug his converse into the dirt of the bank, being careful not to slide anywhere closer to the water’s edge. 

Every few minutes he’d chuck a rock or a piece of branch into the water, and he’d just continue staring into the water. He was angry, and sad, and a whole pile of other emotions. He’d never been very good at describing things he felt though. His insides were churning, and generally Steve liked to beat up some children, or throw rocks through windows of people’s houses when he felt this way, today he was sitting. 

He felt exhausted. The move had been stressful. Relocating was always stressful but with the pressure of dealing with the end of high school approaching, Billy was stressed more than usual. Watching Max was stressful. His father’s constant desire for perfection that Billy was never able to achieve was another factor in Billy’s emotional turmoil. 

Most of all, he missed his mom. He missed how things used to be, before she died. He missed how his dad used to act, and his pleasant memories he had of his old man. There were some memories, before the drinking, and the beatings. Billy remembered playing ball with him, play throwing a football. He remembered his dad laughing, and summertime, and having supper on the patio at the back of his house while his mom chided him about eating his vegetables. It had been so long though, at this point though, Billy didn’t even know if he’d made the memories up. Maybe they were some fever dream after he’d cried himself to sleep after his father slapped him and told him he’d never be anything. 

Billy slid in the dirt a little and re positioned himself. His jeans were going to have dirt on them, but it didn’t matter. The birds made low chirping noises, and the sun filtered down through the leaves on the tree, but it didn’t make Billy feel at home. 

Nowhere felt like home anymore. He wasn’t sure he knew how to make a home. Everywhere they went they moved before he had any time to make any friends, or spread any roots. He told himself he didn’t care, and he didn’t make friends. He had sex with girls at parties, and he fought boys, and that was the extent of his emotional attachment to anywhere they’d ever lived. 

Soon he’d be out of this shit town. He threw his next rock a little bit too hard, and water splashed back onto his shoes. He was a little shocked actually, at the water splashing back, and it made his dark mood, worse. 

Billy had a nagging voice in his head most of the time, his lack of self esteem, telling him all the things he was bad at. The voice sounded especially like his father, but he chose to ignore it most of the time. Right now, while he was feeling emotionally weak, the voice hit him harder than usual.

His face scrunched, and he wrapped his arms around his knees. He felt helpless, and like he was lost completely unable to do anything to effect his life. He had no set goals, or dreams, because he was a puppet of his father. He had wanted to throw back his head and scream, but no sound came out. Not for a minute or two, when the only sound that breached his lips was a hollow, choking sound. 

At first it was just his desperate cry, the sound of pain crushed up inside someone for too long. Then the floodgates opened. He cried for a long time. He cried out of anger, and frustration, and he cried out of sadness, and grief. He missed his mother, and he cried because he felt truly alone. 

Finally, he didn’t know what he was even crying about, he just felt like he needed to. He just cried until he ran out of air, and his sobs turned into choked gasps, his tears streaming down his face. His nose was congested, and he felt physically exhausted from that kind of emotional release. Billy’s hands were balled into fists, and he’d snapped a stick he was holding in his hand into bits. 

Billy’s shoulders were hunched, and he cried until he calmed himself back down. He wiped his snotty nose on the sleeve of his jacket, and took some deep breaths. He wouldn’t have to explain his puffy eyes at least, his father would just assume he’d been out smoking pot. 

That was a great thing about his dad, he would be less disappointed by his son smoking weed than he would be with his son expressing emotion. 

Billy didn’t want to have to burden him with any kind of parental responsibility, like having to raise your kid. 

Scowling, he moved back from the bank, climbing back up the slight incline and walking into the forest. He’d move away, and get a job, and never have to see his father again. His father, or his fake step mom, Susan, or his annoying brat step sister, Max, none of them he wanted to see again. Somewhere, deep inside, for a second he thought he might actually miss Max. As annoying as she was, he still protected her, and kept her safe. It was mostly under threat of death from his father though, really. He didn’t know. Maybe someday, after he was far, far away, he’d be able to catch up with her. But maybe not. 

Stomping through the forest, he stopped to stretch, and brush dirt and grass off his jeans, and the back of his jacket. The air was cool, but he suddenly felt claustrophobic in the forest, and he needed to get out of it. He was sure there were some preteens he could terrorize in town. The car stunt fueled him, and he wanted to test out his reflexes compared to some less powerful kids, and see who came out on top. He had no outlet for his emotions, and he felt like continuing to internalize his rage and disappointment and take out his unstable anger on children, was probably the best option he had, right now.  
‘

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know I'm sympathizing with Billy, and he's a huge piece of shit, but I feel really bad for him, so I'm probably going to keep writing stories about him feeling sad and crying.


End file.
